


Allegory

by Analinea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, I should not be allowed to tag anything this is ridiculous, M/M, a hundred percent fluff people, hitting people in the face accidentally AU, pre-polyamorous relationship, quick mention of allydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: Stiles swears he's not as clumsy as people think he is...but then it lands him a date so he can't really complain about it!





	

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, you should thank me for not making the awful pun I had in mind in the summary...  
> Second, I feel my motivation dry up so there might not be another fic in at least a week and a half (that's a _very_ long time, okay?)   
>  Third, in canon I absolutely hate the "Stiles is clumsy" thing, for various reasons that I will not list here or we'll still be here tomorrow, but hey, this is not set in canon so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Finally, special thanks to Frog for the idea, she forgot all about it but she said either Derek or Isaac, so I thought _why not both? *wink wink*_ (and yes, I'm calling you Frog now, you brought this on yourself)

Stiles is not known to be particularly good at keeping his balance while walking. Or standing. He always thought it was a really unfair misconception about him: he can be graceful when he wants, it's just that his mind is really too busy focusing on more important stuff than on controling his legs. Like the different types of carriages and boats. 

He's thinking about that, the fact that he's not always stumbling and falling and slipping or even taking the edge of his bedroom door in the face after it somehow bounced on his foot. That's the moment said foot chooses to twist at the ankle and make him fall backwards. Later, he will have all the time to think about the irony of the situation, make up a whole theory about how it was actually fate.

But now, all he can think is  _grab something grab something_ as he flails his hands in a way that would be impressive if it didn't look so desperate. He feels something connect with his right hand, doesn't really hear the shouted curse, instead grips with the other hand what could be fabric if he had the time to think about it.

A second later, he's on the ground, breath knocked out of his lungs, pain slowly blossoming in his lower back, and a fist full of a silky soft gray scarf.

“What the- could you be more careful?”, a shocked voice yells over him. Stiles opens his eyes to see what can only be described as a Renaissance allegory of love. If only he didn't sound like an asshole just now.

“I'm okay, thanks for asking,” Stiles mutters, rolling his eyes and grunting as he rolls to the side to try and get up.

“Are you alright?”, he hears the same voice ask with concern to the guy that must wear the pair of shoes in his line of sight.

“'m fi'e, wha' happ'd?”, Shoes answers, and when Stiles gets up he curses whoever made him hit the Renaissance allegory of beauty in the face hard enough to make his nose bleed profusely. Meanwhile, Stiles is dressed like a rainy Sunday, holds his back like a ninety year old in high need of a cane, and he's probably blushing so hard he's going to explode.

“The dumbass here,” Love points his thumb at Stiles without even looking at him, “fell on his ass and we're collateral.”

“Hey!”, Stiles exclaims, ready to make another nose bleed, “I can hear you, you know? Asshole.”

Love turns his way and looks rather murderous, but Stiles refuses to move back. Beauty bends to pick up the scarf still on the ground and uses it to press on his nose, which immediately redirects Love's angry glare.

“What, you have a tons of those,” Beauty shrugs. Stiles is ready to sigh and turn away to leave, but then amazing eyes are on him and he finds himself rooted on the spot. “You should be more careful when you walk,” Beauty says, and Stiles is ready to kill something.

“Oh, thanks,” he replies with as much sarcasm as he can muster while half bent at the waist and rubbing his butt, “I'll try to fall on nicer people next time.”

With that he finally turns to leave, ignores the silence followed by whispers behind him, and tries to remember what he was thinking about just before he got interrupted by his general bad luck.

“Hey, wait!” Love's voice calls behind him, and Stiles actually sighs before half turning to the two gorgeous dicks. Huh, interesting choice of words, his mind unhelpfully provides as he watches Love approach and braces himself for another comment on how clumsy he is.

“Sorry, that was rude, you just took me by surprise,” Love says, looking genuinely guilty, “Derek was just- he's a physio and he does some postural shit, so he didn't meant it like that. I'm Isaac, by the way,” Isaac extends his hand.

“Stiles,” he says, shaking the hand and half shrugging, “and it's alright, I was more pissed at falling than at you guys. Well, no, that's a lie,” he adds before he can stop himself, “but you're nice now so it's okay.”

Derek chuckles behind Isaac, and Stiles glances at him quickly, seeing that the flow of blood stopped. The scarf is not gray anymore though.

“How about we pay you a drink, to apologize? If you have the time right now obviously.” Isaac offers. Stiles thinks about it for a second, then decides that a quick text to Scott to explain the situation would be enough.

“Okay, but I should pay for Derek's, I mean I did hit him pretty hard,” Stiles laughs, getting his phone out to send the message. It says, _Wish me luck bro, I need one of the two guys I just met to be charming, gay and not with the other one_.

He gets the answer while he's listening to the other two trying to decide where they should go for a drink, Scott saying,  _Why not both? *wink wink*_ , and Stiles has to cough to disguise his squeal. It makes the other two look at him funny, but it also makes them stop arguing long enough to allow Stiles to make the choice for them.

“What about the Silver Arrow, down the street?” he offers, “One of my friends owns it.” He doesn't mention that he wants to preen a little in front of said friend, or prove to her girlfriend that _Yes, Lydia, I actually go out and see people sometimes_. The fact that he just met those two five minutes ago by chance -or like, by hitting one of them in the face- is not relevant. 

The other two nod, and while they walk, Derek starts explaining some stuff about how to put down his foot correctly. He asks permission to touch Stiles,making him nod so quick he fears he'll concuss himself on thin air.

Derek's hand finds its way in the curve of his back, and Stiles blushes at the feeling. He sees Isaac smirk from the corner of his eyes, and then the guy interrupts Derek in the middle of a sentence about iliopsoas,

“Did I tell you I'm an art student?” he asks, keeping on looking straight ahead as Stiles looks up at his profile. It makes him notice that Isaac is the taller of the three of them, even if Derek certainly looks more imposing. “We're in the middle of studying the Renaissance, and I've been looking for a model...,” he hesitates, then, glancing quickly at Stiles without turning his head, “and I think you'd make a beautiful Fate allegory. If you'd be okay with, um, modeling.”

If Stiles thought he was blushing hard before, he was wrong. He's pretty sure he's flushed from his ears to his toes now. “Uh...,” is all he can say, looking between Isaac and Derek.

“You can take your time to think about it,” Isaac says, smiling innocently. “Maybe first we could go on a date or two?”

Stiles' eyes widen comically, and he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket like a reminder of the text he just sent to Scott minutes before. He's never so lucky as to have something like this happen to him. Derek clears his throat at his left, and he turns to the man, noticing then that they stopped walking.

“There one thing we need to tell you first,” he starts, scolding Isaac with a simple look. The other just shrugs, making Derek huff before he continues, “we're already together, with Isaac,” and _oh_ , yeah, not so lucky then. Stiles feels slightly hurt that Isaac would play with him like that. No, scratch that, he feels very hurt.

His face scrunches up and he's about to yell at them but he just has time to open his mouth before Isaac interrupts him like the rude person he is, “But we would be _both_ interested in dating you. If that's okay?”

If Stiles thought his brain was short circuited before, now it just left the key inside and took off to find a better head to live in. The only thing that comes to his mind is the old computer they had when he was a kid, when it froze and he played with the windows that left a trace on the desktop until it was filled with lines of “Paint (not responding)”.

Someone must hit ctrl+alt+suppr on him, because he finally processes that he was asked on a date by the _the two of them_ . Surprisingly -or not, considering his usual train of thoughts- it's at that exact moment that he remembers what he was thinking about, just before he fell. He chuckles a bit hysterically and thinks that this is not irony, this is not even fate. This is just the most perfect day of his life.

He gains enough control on his mouth to say “Yes,” and then “This drink could count as number one.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can squeeze one last fluffy fic from me by hitting the kudos button (spoiler alert, it will be a babysitting AU :D you can thank Cami for it), and I'd love you for even the shortest comment :)  
> My [tumblr](http://kinsbournescream.tumblr.com) is this way if you want to talk or just have a procrastination time scheduled!


End file.
